


not yet

by vernonroche



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Mentions, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Swearing, Whumptober 2020, emhyr is a dick, minor sheala/philippa, no beta we die like foltest did ope, sex allusions and references but nothing explicit, very minor geralt/yen, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26773999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vernonroche/pseuds/vernonroche
Summary: days 2, 3, 9, 11, 15, 19, and 25 - in the hands of the enemy ("pick who dies"), my way or the highway (forced to their knees), for the greater good (take me instead), psych 101 (crying), into the unknown (magical healing), broken hearts (survivors guilt), i think i'll just collapse right here, thanks (disorientation)
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951819
Kudos: 15





	not yet

**Author's Note:**

> a/n - hoo boy this one kinda got away from me, i did a long prologue type thing too yikes and introduced a minor oc (Aine pronounced An-ya for my non-irish friends). if you liked this checkout my tumblr bloededhoine for more!

Roche and Iorveth had quite literally ran into each other in a pub in Tretogor, and in their inebriated states they decided to forgo the usual formalities of death threats and skip right into slightly shameful, but extremely satisfying sex. The next morning, Iorveth's hangover had diminished his elven grace to such a capacity that searching for his hastily discarded clothes made such a commotion it woke the sleeping dh'oine. 

"Elf..." a voice thick with sleep and parched from cheap liquor sounded from under the moth-eaten blanket,  
"the fuck d'you think you're going?"  
"Out. I'm not in the mood for pillow talk, dh'oine."  
Without thinking, Roche sat up and grabbed Iorveth's arm.  
"What? I think you got more than you needed last night..." Iorveth noted with a slight grin, obviously eyeing the purple bruises covering the human's neck and chest.  
"Hmm? Oh, no it's not that- just... What are we doing?"  
"I was just leaving"  
"No, no wait one fucking minute", Roche growled as his already thin patience was on its last legs from the effects of the alcohol.  
"Iorveth, I- I think we should join forces", Roche said as if it wasn't the stupidest idea Iorveth had ever heard.  
"Squass'me?" Iorveth practically spit out the water he had been sipping  
"Listen, with Radovid gone Emhyr is completely unchecked. I know your numbers, Iorveth. And I am sure you know mine. This is not a war we can win. Help me, you can still save your people-"  
"Oh, bloede peste, dh'oine!" Iorveth shouted.  
"You expect me to help you? My numbers are fine, thank you. We obviously know how to conceal ourselves far better than your precious Stripes do, but that's not the point. Do you realize what Emhyr will ask? Pure submission. It won't be your Temeria, the lilies won't mean anything. Roche, this is a war you have already lost. I'm not going to whore myself out to Nilfgaard to nurse your wounded pride."

Roche let the facts he had been purposefully avoiding for years sit in the air around him. Iorveth turned to look at him, and could have sworn he saw true despair in those deep brown eyes.  
"I know..", the human practically whispered.  
"We lost the second the Kingslayer assassinated Foltest. But my people are still dying. They're dying because Emhyr knows I can't accept defeat", he paused and looked up at Iorveth through the overgrown mahogany hair falling in front of his eyes. The elf met his gaze, his emerald eye looking even more piercing than Roche thought possible. With a sign, Roche continued,  
"I have accepted defeat now. I have no other choice. Please, Iorveth. Imagine it, a vassal state where humans and elves can live peacefully. No more traps, no more wars, no more death. Your squirrels can rebuild, have children, live. I can't do this without your help. If Emhyr has Temeria he will turn it on the Scoiatael, you know he will paint you as violent terrorists that are standing in the way of a free North." Now, it was time for Roche to see the defeat in Iorveth's eye.  
"Fine. But not for you, or for your precious Temeria, but for the Scoiatael"  
"Understood"  
"We will head to Vizima, I see no reason to wait. Tell Emhyr we will listen to his empire in exchange for peace. Nothing more. Don't fuck this up, Roche"  
"Thanks for the vote of confidence"  
Iorveth spoke again after a moment of silence.  
"With that settled, I have just one important rule...", Iorveth said with his usual smirk  
"What do you want now?"  
"You can't fall in love with me"  
"Don't flatter yourself, elf", Roche said with a short laugh. 

1 YEAR LATER

Well, Roche has broken Iorveth's one rule. The initial stress of signing peace treaties, moving refugees, and meeting with diplomats was incredibly overwhelming. For better or for worse, Iorveth was equally stressed, and their many hours in the same exhausting audiences had made for shared experiences that climaxed in some very effective relaxation exercises. One night, Iorveth seemed too tired to return to his chambers, so Roche just added more wood to the fireplace and tried not to smile too obviously when Iorveth subconsciously curled into his chest. Such occurrences became more frequent, to the point where they would often eat dinner together after a long day. Roche couldn't say exactly when he noticed Iorveth had left his flute and favorite boots behind, but it was not long before Iorveth had practically moved in with Roche. They never discussed it, years of their cat and mouse game had made it so they almost shared a psyche. 

One night, Roche lay his head in Iorveth's lap as the elf gently stoked his hair while reading a book of elven poetry. When Roche's breathing had slowed, Iorveth softly put the book down and shimmied down the bed so he could lay more comfortably. Instinctively pulling the sleeping human to his chest, Iorveth heard a small mumble. "Hmm?" he responded quietly. Brown eyes slowly opened and met Iorveth's green. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep Vernon".  
"Iorveth?"  
"Yes?"  
A sigh, before Roche flipped himself onto his back and practically whispered, as if speaking softly would make any of the words less true,  
"I- I think I broke your rule"  
Fucking elven hearing had Iorveth sitting up as if Roche had told him he had just grown a second dick.  
"You can leave, if you want. I understand", Roche mumbled as the silence grew heavier  
"No, no no. I- I'm just surprised-"  
"Spare me, Iorveth. I don't want to hear 'I'm not ready' or 'it's not you, it's me' or any of that shit just-"  
"Bloede dh'oine...", Iorveth sighed  
"Fucking typical, I'm a 'bloede dh'oine' for not lying my way through every damn day like you so called higher species do. Just get the fuck out, Iorveth", The anger in Roche's voice had faded to the pure pain of rejection and the knowledge that he had fallen hopelessly in love with someone he could never have. 

Iorveth didn't move, so Roche swung his legs over the side of the bed and started looking for his pants. This time, it was Iorveth who grabbed his arm.  
"Wait...it's not...I'm not lying, Vernon. I didn't fuck you or stay with you or share your bed just for the hell of it. I just, I think I broke that promise a long time before I even had you make it."  
The words hung heavily in the air, as if refusing to leave until they were understood. Roche turned on his heel and hesitantly say down on the bed. Cupping Iorveth's good cheek in his hand, he pressed their foreheads together and whispered "are you sure?" so quietly only they could hear. A gentle nod was all he needed before the sound of "I love you, you damn elf" was filling the minuscule space between them. Roche felt soft lips and a skillful tongue against his mouth, reciprocating as best he could before Iorveth leaned back and said "I love you too, you stupid human". Roche smiled into the confession, gently meeting the elven lips before adding more force and slowly lowering Iorveth onto their bed. Although this was far from the first kiss they had shared, it was new. It wasn't one born out of worry, or when one of them just needed to scratch an itch. It had the love and passion neither of them had ever thought existed. It had all the joy and hope they didn't bother to believe in, because it would simply be a waste of time. But in that moment, lying in sheets that smelled like sweat and sex and sin, they both experienced the beautiful innocence of a first love, and the even more special hope for all the things that would come with it, including them both, twice that night. 

6 MONTHS LATER

Iorveth had finally moved all of his things into Roche's chambers, although he kept his old room for the extra space when he needed it. Most of the commotion of annexing Temeria to Nilfgaard had passed, and the two of them had talked about what their life could be like once they had fulfilled their final duties to their respective peoples.  
"We could go to Toussaint", Iorveth suggested one rare morning when neither of them were needed in five places at once.  
"I hear Geralt has a vineyard, I'd like to visit him", Iorveth continued  
"He does, he lives there with one of those sorceresses"  
"Which one?"  
"Melitele only knows", Roche said with a laugh, turning to look at Iorveth he saw a rare smile of true mirth and felt his heart grow even fuller. 

Their moment was interrupted by rapid banging on the door, Roche gently pushed Iorveth out of bed as he had stolen Roche's pants. The elf walked to the door, and Roche couldn't help but watch the way his slim hips swayed with his step. Iorveth opened the door and saw an incredibly flustered guard outside. "Can I help you?", he said, clearly trying not to be rude but evidently bothered by the disruption. "Sir, a small group of refugees came in. All peasants from Velen except for one little elf girl. They seem to think she's an orphan." "I feel sorry for her, but I fail to understand why this falls under my jurisdiction", Iorveth drawled, his patience running thin. "Sir, she doesn't speak a word of Common. Nearly all the elves left in a caravan for a larger settlement in Maribor yesterday. The ones who stayed are still in the hospital and can't-" "Alright, I will talk to her, give me five minutes", Iorveth interrupted and quickly shut the door. 

"Duty calls?" Roche asked from his spot in the bed, now sitting up against the headboard. "It won't take long", Iorveth said as he pulled one of Roche's jerkins over his head and quickly laced the front. "Que glosse?" Iorveth questioned as he saw his love's wide grin. "Nothing, nothing", Roche responded quietly. Living with Iorveth in the Nilfgaardian capital had made Roche practically fluent in Elder Speech, although he was yet to understand all the innuendos Iorveth used so frequently. The elf pulled his bandana over his scarred eye, and walked over to the bed. Straddling Roche's thighs, Iorveth slowly pressed kisses into the human's neck, chuckling when strong hands gripped his hips. The elf slowly circled his hips, feeling Roche stiffen under him. "caen me a'baethe?" Iorveth breathed into the rounded ear. "Thaess aep", Roche muttered but his tongue was already in the elf's mouth before he could even hear himself talk. Once their lungs burned, Iorveth sat back on Roche's thighs before standing up and pulling on his boots. "10 minutes, alright?" "Fucking better be." 

Iorveth met the guard in the inner courtyard, and was quickly briefed on the situation.  
"The peasants she was with, all Temerians. They say they saw her trying to steal food, but offered her some instead. She's been travelling with them ever since"  
"And she doesn't speak a word of Common?"  
"No, sir"  
As they walked to the infirmary, Iorveth saw the elf in question sitting on a bed while a medic stitched a small wound on her forehead. She was young, Iorveth guessed no more than five winters, surprising given the shortage of elven children since the first war. She had black hair cropped to her shoulders, ice blue eyes, and a faint dusting of freckles across her tanned skin. Iorveth walked to her, holding both hands up so she knew he wasn't a threat.  
"Caedmil, que te enw?", Iorveth asked as he waved the medic and guard away. The girl seemed relieved by this, clearly recognizing Iorveth as a true Aen Seide.  
"Ess-essea neb"  
"Wel, pawb ess rhywun. Que modron te galw?"  
"Neén hab-habet modron, ess mawr"  
With this confession, Iorveth gently sat next to the girl and put an arm around her when she began to sob into his chest. After she calmed down, Iorveth was able to piece together the basic information, she was orphaned before her Naming Rite, and was taken by a group of elven refugees who simply called her "weddin". The girl went looking for tadpoles one day, luckily as well since a group of witch hunters had caught the group and slaughtered everyone they could find. Fortunately, the young elf stayed hidden, allowing her to join the group that had been travelling to Vizima. Iorveth was stunned they had not killed her, but the Aen Seide were a hearty species, and the fact that she only spoke Hen Llinge was further indication that she was allowed to follow the group, but was never interacted with. 

"Iorveth!", a familiar low voice from outside the tent called. "It's been way longer than 10 minutes. The fuck is going on?"  
"Come inside Vernon, lower your voice."  
Roche saw the little girl's eyes open wide at the sight of him, Iorveth quickly noticed as well as he immediately began to repeat "Caelm, mae'n ffrind, caelm, mae'n ffrind." Roche unclasped his belt with his sword and dagger and set them on the other side of the tent. He saw Iorveth whisper something to the girl before he stood and asked Roche to step outside for a minute.  
"What's going on?"  
"She's an orphan. Doesn't even have a name, they just called her 'kid' "  
"I-I'm sorry Iorveth. I know how important names are for elves"  
"Vernon..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Can she stay in the spare room? It's not like I ever use it. She's been through a lot, we could teach her Common and find her a good place to stay, I just-"  
"Of course she can. You don't need to convince me."  
Iorveth smiled before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his love's lips.  
"Thank you"  
"Always"

1 YEAR LATER 

Neither Roche nor Iorveth were needed as Nilfgaardian diplomatic officials, but had stayed in Vizima to care for the young elf. After a few months, Iorveth asked Roche to attend her belated Naming Rite, which Roche wholeheartedly agreed to, understanding the trust it took for Iorveth to allow a human to be there. On that warm spring day, the child who came to them in war and stayed with them in peace became Aine, known affectionately as Annie by her fathers. She proved to be an intelligent and dedicated pupil, successfully learning as much as Common as possible, under the condition that Roche would learn more Hen Llinge, allowing him to stun Iorveth with perfect pronunciation of the most difficult words. In the warmer months, Roche would teach her swordsmanship, while Iorveth focussed on archery. In the winter, the three would skate on the frozen lakes, something Roche was surprisingly adept at. When the snow had melted, Iorveth and Roche began to consider where to continue their new life. Understandably, neither had a desire to stay in Vizima and had discussed moving to Ellander, Kovir, or even Skellige. However, the desire to remain close to the ex-Scoiatael and Blue Stripes won and the small family found a home in Ellander, Aine could even study under Nenneke when she was older. They had sent nearly all of their things in advance, save some clothes, Iorveth's flute, Roche's medallion, and Aine's bow, which she was now inseparable from. Philippa Eilhart, happily controlling the North from her spot in Emhyr's court, had graciously opened a portal to their home, and although neither Roche nor Iorveth trusted any sorceresses, a faulty portal seemed like an undignified way to kill them, and would be much easier than several weeks by horse. The young girl was visibly nervous, having heard her uncle Geralt's stories about portals, but her fathers comforted her with the knowledge that uncle Geralt was just a bit dramatic sometimes, much to Philippa's amusement.  
Iorveth had been to the estate once in the winter, while Roche and Aine had never even seen it, yet all were pleasantly surprised at the beautiful flowers crawling up the walls, the herb garden next to the house, and the fruit trees surrounding the back. There were small pens where they could keep chickens, and plenty of space for an archery range. As Aine ran inside to see her new home with her new family, Roche and Iorveth began to explore the property.  
"This almost doesn't feel real," Roche said while touching an apple blossom.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Well, 4 years ago we were living in the woods, desperately trying to kill each other, and for what? I said it was for Temeria and all that shit, but Temeria's gone. The lilies are gone and damnit Iorveth, I am happier than I have ever been."  
"And that's strange because...?"  
"Because I didn't think I would ever have that. I didn't think I deserved it. I still don't think I do, if I'm being honest."  
"En'ca minne, you deserve everything"  
With that, Iorveth released Roche's hand that he didn't even realize he was holding, and pulled the human into a kiss, placing his free hand behind Roche's neck to deepen the kiss. They stood there for Melitele knows how long until a small voice interrupted their moment.  
"Eeeewwww! You're kissing!"  
Iorveth gave a short laugh before facing his daughter, "And? Grown-ups kiss sometimes. Come on, let's go inside before it gets too cold". They each took one of Aine's hands and swung her in the air as they took the short walk inside. 

6 MONTHS LATER

"Daddy! Where's my boots?", Aine called. "I dunno, where'd you leave them?" Roche responded. "If she knew that she wouldn't have asked", Iorveth noted as he finished packing his bag. The three of them were taking a brief trip to Vizima, where Roche and Iorveth would attend a summit to finalize the unification of the Northern Realms. Neither wanted to go, Roche even less, as he had mentioned multiple times a day since they were summoned. However, this was their final contribution to politics, and that alone gave plenty of incentive. After Aine found her boots, Philippa Eilhart portalled in, nearly on cue. Roche picked up his daughter, holding her close to his chest as he reminded himself to not let uncle Geralt talk about portals anymore, and stepped through. On the other side, another sorceress with black hair and a similarly colored velvet dress was stabilizing the portal, Iorveth remembered her from Loc Muinne as Sheala de Tancarville. Philippa came through before smoothing down her hair and giving Sheala a quick kiss. "Your rooms are down the hall to the left", Philippa said before leading her wife away with a hand on her hip.  
Roche, Iorveth, and Aine put their bags down before Roche said he was going to visit Ves in the city, which was not technically a lie. He was visiting Ves, and they were going to the city, but what he didn't mention was he was going to pick up a simple gold ring Ves had casually mentioned to Roche in a letter. As he approached the bench they had agreed to meet by, Roche was pleased to see his lieutenant had not been changed by Nilfgaard, her shirt was still open to her navel, although her blonde hair had been allowed to grow slightly longer, drawing attention to her blue eyes she still lined with coal. As soon as seeing Roche, Ves smiled widely and pulled him into a bear hug. Although Roche knew he had everything he could ever want in his life, it was good to see his second in command again. They talked for a bit, before Ves asked, "are you sure you want to do this? Last I remember you wanted to kill the bastard."  
"He's changed Ves, as have I. He just-he just makes me happier than I have ever been, I really do love him."  
Ves smiled again, a surprising but not unwelcome change from her usually serious demeanor. "I'm happy for you, Roche. You deserve that. Now, when do I get to meet your daughter?"  
"Later, I want to get the ring first". 

Vernon Roche did not know much about rings, but he did know Iorveth and he knew he would love this one. It was simple, a plain gold band with a small squirrel etched on the inside. He couldn't contain his smile, the thoughts of marrying the love of his life and seeing the look on his face when he saw the ring made Roche feel like he was walking on air. However, what Roche did not know was that early that morning, Ves had picked up another ring, paying with florens she had sent to her following several months of detailed letters with one Scoiatael commander. This ring was silver, and instead of a squirrel it had a lily. Ves didn't mention anything to either of them, grinning to herself when she felt the joy of seeing her best friend and guardian angel get the happy ending he deserved. Fortunately, both their experiences in years of interrogations had helped them perfectly hide their facial expressions. After tucking Aine into bed, Roche and Iorveth fell asleep in each other's arms, independently thinking of the same future far from politics but close to each other. 

The next morning, Iorveth quietly woke his soon-to-be-fiance, and the two of them got dressed to the sounds of a dove singing outside their window. Even with the bird, it was unusually quiet, which Roche dismissed as his mind being used to the sounds of farm animals and the creek that ran behind their house. The two of them woke up Aine with some bread and fruits, leaving her in the care of one of the palace's elven guards before taking the short walk to the hall where the summit was to be held. It was uneventful, as these things often are, but Roche and Iorveth were kept occupied by gently touching the rings they kept in their pockets. After what felt like hours, the Emperor decided he was finally satisfied with the meeting and had everyone move to the inner courtyard. Although Iorveth whispered that they should just go to bed since the main event was over, Roche told him it was still important to make an appearance as the leaders of those who were still most opposed to Emhyr's rule. Iorveth knew he was right, but silently protested by drinking more than his fair share of the watered-down wine. He saw the two sorceresses standing in a corner, likely discussing the future of the North. As far as Iorveth knew, Loc Muinne was the nail in the Lodge's coffin, but he would not at all be surprised if the surviving members continued to meet in secret. Although he did not want to worry any longer about politics, he knew that he would need to keep one eye open as long as Enid an Gleanna ruled Dol Blathanna. Iorveth noticed Emhyr walk over to them, and nudged Roche's elbow to get him to look too.

"What do you think they're saying?"  
"Iorveth, I love you, but I don't care."  
"What if it's important?"  
"Why are you being nosy?"  
"I have a bad feeling about this, Vernon. Look, all the Nilfgaardians left. What if it's a set-up?"  
"If its a set-up Emhyr would have left too."  
As if he heard them, Emhyr followed his chamberlain out of the courtyard, two guards moving to the exit they took. Roche looked at Iorveth and both began to casually move to the archway that led back inside the palace. Maybe they were paranoid, but years of living on the run had given them a sixth sense that they were not going to disregard with their daughter nearby. When the guards noticed them, they quickly moved to the archway with their spears crossed. "What's this? We'd like to leave", Iorveth asked, hoping that his reputation preceded him and the guards would have the good sense to let them through. "Meeting isn't over. No one leaves, Emperor's orders", the guard said curtly. Roche looked at Iorveth before they both walked back to where they were standing and tried to hide the fear rising in their chests as they surveyed the courtyard for any potential exits or weapons, noticing the several uneasy faces of the remaining Temerian, Redanian, and Kaedweni officials.  
After what could have been 5 minutes or a few hours, Emhyr reappeared behind the guards and cleared his throat. "You may be wondering why I have kept you here tonight. Although you are all, legally, dedicated to Nilfgaard, I know you to be loose cannons. I assure you, this is purely political and not personal", the Emperor took a pause as he surveyed the terrified faces and Roche took Iorveth's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Roche, Iorveth, I know your 'daughter' is in my palace. Do not try to be heroes if you wish her to see another day." With this, the guards fired their perfectly aimed crossbows, each remaining diplomat falling like a bag of rocks. Roche felt as if his feet had been frozen to the floor as he looked at the bodies with arrows sticking out between their eyes and felt Iorveth squeeze his hand harder. Emhyr walked calmly to them, stepping over the bodies as if they were fallen trees.  
He nodded to his guards, who left their positions, likely staying within earshot. "Well, I never would have expected this, Vernon Roche, Temeria's last hope, and Iorveth, known elven terrorist, so deluded to think they're in love" Emhyr said as he slowly turned to face Iorveth.  
"Do you have any idea how many people, your people, he has murdered? I understand the fear of loneliness, especially with your species practically staring extinction in the face. What evades my comprehension, however, is that you seek comfort in the arms of the man who is largely responsible for that extinction."  
Iorveth stiffened, barely containing his urge to strangle the Emperor where he stood. Emhyr took a deep breath, continuing in his deathly cool voice,  
"And you, Commander. Becoming soft in your old age? I wonder how you can look at that little girl's face, knowing it was probably you who slaughtered her parents. I'd no idea being a cock-whore was genetic."  
Roche wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and stab Emhyr and take his daughter and Iorveth and run, just get away from Nilfgaard and her Emperor's words that he knew were lies, but stung like truths.  
Emhyr smiled, though not with his eyes. It was the feral smile of an animal sizing up its prey. A smile that told all who saw it to pray to whatever gods they acknowledged, and even those they didn't.  
"Although this has been thoroughly amusing, it is not why I kept you two here. Kneel."  
Roche and Iorveth stayed standing for a moment, both knew they would go down fighting in any other situation, but not with their daughter in danger.  
"Kneel!"  
Both slowly fell to their knees, Iorveth could feel bile rise to his throat and his heart drop to his stomach, for the first time in his life he was truly afraid.  
"Now, that's better. You both have considerable influence with your peoples, they have and will follow you to their deaths. Clearly, this is a liability to me, and will continue to be one with both of you dead. However, both of your deaths would be more than enough ammunition for the North to stop its infighting and turn on me, naturally I do not want that. Still, if I only kill one, the other will go to great lengths to avenge him."  
Emhyr paused and calmly clasped his hands behind his back, Roche felt his stomach turn at the knowledge that a person could look so collected while deciding how to inflict the most pain possible.  
Emhyr looked up at the stars and smiled to himself, then turned back to Roche and Iorveth.  
"I have decided I shall put the choice in your hands. Choose. One of you will leave with the girl, the other will be an unfortunate casualty in the name of peace, a story about the true price of disorder. I could not care less who is who, so I will let you decide. If you don't come to a decision in one minute, I will start with your daughter. Your time begins now, I will give you some privacy" 

Roche knew what Emhyr was doing. The Emperor wanted one of them to be too destroyed to do anything. And fucking hell, he was correct. Roche was exhausted as it is. The weight of allowing Iorveth, the one person he had truly loved, to be murdered in front of him would kill himself and Temeria all at once. But he knew it wouldn't come to that. He knew Iorveth would not die that night. The elf had so much ahead of him, while Roche didn't have more than thirty years, in any situation. He knew Iorveth was a strong and vengeful creature, he would still be able to lead. Roche knew his own death would not be in vain. 

With this realization, Roche allowed the tears he had been holding back to fall down his cheeks, yet his voice remained calm as always.  
"Iorveth, it has to be me."  
"No, no no I can't let you do that. Temeria needs you. Aine needs you"  
"Listen to me, you have so much life left to live. I'm not going to let him cut you a few centuries short."  
"Vernon, please. I-I can't lose you. I can't do it - I need you, please"  
Iorveth's green eye looked lighter now that it was rimmed with red, Roche took in the colour before cupping Iorveth's face with both his hands and whispering "I love you, more than I could love anyone in the world. But-"  
"No, no buts. If you love me please, please don't leave me"  
"Iorveth, listen to me. It's okay. You have so much ahead of you, this is what I want. I am so so sorry I need to leave you now, please forgive me-"

Roche's response was cut short by Emhyr's entrance, this time flanked by three armed guards. The emperor set a decorated knife on the ground, and kicked it to where Roche and Iorveth knelt.  
"I'd rather not have some filthy elf or Temerian bastard's blood on my guard's hands"  
Emhyr nodded to the knife, "Whenever you are ready"  
Roche picked it up with violently shaking hands and pointed it at his chest, "No, not you. The elf will do it".  
"That wasn't part of the deal", Roche snarled, "You're a murderer, just too much of a coward to do the dirty work yourself".  
"Such insolent final words, perhaps you wish it was the girl in your place. Hand Iorveth the knife, I have already repeated myself too many times. The guards will tell me when it is done." Emhyr turned on his heel and left. 

As Roche pressed the knife into Iorveth's hand, the elf looked down and remembered something he would have rather done anywhere else, but it didn't seem like he'd have a chance. With shaking hands, Iorveth pulled the silver ring from his pocket and showed it to Roche. "I-I wanted to ask you differently. There would be your favourite wine and a sunset and no imminent death but... why are you laughing?" Roche reached into his pocket, and pulled out the gold ring he had bought just a few days prior. Iorveth smiled, a real, true smile in spite of the tears and kissed his human for the last time. "Vernon Roche, will you marry me?"  
"Nothing would make me happier". They had to stabilize each other's hands as they put on the rings and Roche placed the knife back into Iorveth's slender hand.  
"Vernon...I can't"  
"Yes you can, it's okay. Iorveth, I want this". He placed his hand around his fiancé's and helped him find the placement between his ribs that would cause the least pain. "What's our wedding going to be like, dh'oine?", Iorveth asked with the calmest voice he could muster.  
"Hmm, I think we should go to Toussaint. There will be flowers, and wine, and I'll finally get to see that dancing you elves are so proud o-a little higher, Iorveth, that's my rib"  
"Sorry, we can see the Beauclaire palace, and visit Geralt, you miss him, don't you Vernon? Vernon?" Iorveth felt the warm blood on his legs before he brought himself to look down. Those brown eyes were still open, the eyes he lost himself in every night, the eyes that gave him the most patronizing look that consistently made him weak in the knees, the eyes that were now filled with unshed tears. Iorveth gently closed them, continuing to trace his fingers down the strong nose and cheeks dusted with stubble before reaching Roche's lips, usually scowling, sometimes smirking, but now slightly open from the last breath that passed through them. Iorveth held Roche to his chest and began to sob, burying his face into his neck and trying desperately to find the scent that would linger on his sheets and his clothes and his heart, but it was hidden by the sharp metallic smells of blood and fear. 

Iorveth jumped at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, and was stunned to see Philippa Eilhart. "The Emperor sent me to see if he's dead. I'm to take his body to the Redanian garrison, it's not far fetched for them to kill the last Temerian commander." "C-can you just say you took him?", Iorveth stuttered, "I want to give him a proper burial". Philippa gave Iorveth a look he couldn't decipher, before sharply saying "you will do no such thing" and pushing Iorveth, whose knuckles were white from his grip on Roche's shoulders, through a hastily opened portal.  
On the other side, Iorveth felt incredibly nauseous and disoriented as he found himself in a small room. Sheala de Tancarville was there, and immediately began to pry Roche out of Iorveth's arms. He tried to object, but whether it was from the crying or the portal it felt like his throat was filled with sand. Philippa stepped through the portal, looking uncharacteristically disheveled and tired as she lifted Roche off the ground with her wife's help. Iorveth tried to stand, but his vision was quickly being covered by black spots that became indistinguishable from the curtain of black hair falling over his face. 

Iorveth woke up in a soft bed, with a warm quilt pulled up to his chin. He immediately began looking around, although sitting up made his head spin. "Hey, hey relax. Lie back down", a gravelly voice said as large hands pushed his shoulders back onto the pillow. "Geralt?" Iorveth asked, his voice sounding and feeling like sandpaper. "Drink this," the witcher said, handing him a cup of tea that smelled like honey and herbs. After Iorveth finished the cup, Geralt quickly refilled it and started to explain,  
"Philippa opened the portal in a courtyard surrounded by dimeritium. She didn't have enough energy to make it stable, so she sacrificed a bit of comfort to get you and Roche here. Yen went to Vizima and got Aine. She's in the guest house with Ciri. Yen didn't think it would help to see her fathers in that state". Iorveth sipped his tea as he thought about the question he had in his mind since the second he woke up, but was scared to ask. 

As if Geralt could hear his thoughts,  
"Roche is alive. The sorceresses have been with him around the clock, Philippa hasn't even told Yennefer anything, but I think she will talk to you if you ask". Although it was mortifying to do so in front of the witcher, Iorveth couldn't hold back his tears. Geralt, obviously uncomfortable, mumbled something about getting some soup and left. Iorveth wrapped his arms around himself and allowed himself to cry, out of fear, relief, anger, or an emotion he couldn't even assign a word to. When he calmed down, he stood and carefully walked out of the small room, seeing Geralt sitting next to a large fireplace. He stood up when he saw Iorveth, surprised when the elf pulled him into a tight hug. After a moment's hesitation, Geralt wrapped his arms around his usually stoic and snarky friend, rubbing small circles on his back. "Can I see him?", Iorveth asked. Geralt couldn't help but notice the elf looked older, his dark brown hair falling to his thin shoulders, his usually bright eye seeming sunken and blank. Geralt nodded and pointed to a door down the hall. Iorveth opened it hesitantly, he didn't have a clue what he wanted to see, but Philippa maintaining a spell on Roche's body while an exhausted Yennefer slept in a corner and Sheala looked intensely over an ancient book didn't seem like the worst situation possible. 

When Sheala noticed him, she nudged Philippa, whose usually meticulous hair was tied in a loose bun at the nape of her neck and newly restored eyes had deep circles under them. "He's not awake yet", Sheala said. "Yet?", Iorveth asked, the hope in his voice painfully evident. "Yes, yet. He was lucky, very lucky. We are keeping him asleep until the spell takes hold, it's simpler that way".  
"Why are you doing this? Last I remembered none of you liked either of us", Iorveth questioned. Philippa asked Sheala to take over the spell as she walked out of the room, gesturing to Iorveth to follow. 

"I don't like you", Philippa admitted once they were outside and Iorveth realized he was at the famous Corvo Bianco. "But, a few months ago, I nearly had to say goodbye to someone very dear to me. Permanently. I wouldn't wish that on you, or anyone for that matter. Now go inside and take a bath, I'd hate for my fiancé to come back from the brink of death to someone smelling like you do". Iorveth smiled to himself, before Philippa walked inside and Geralt took her place. "I was going to ask you about the ring", he said, "but it seems Lady Owl beat me to it. I can't say I'm not surprised, you're really marrying him?"  
"I can't explain it, Geralt. What I wonder about the most is how I didn't realize it sooner. He's my soulmate... and- and he almost died for me", Iorveth groaned and put his head into his hands. "How could I let that happen, Geralt? How-how did I let myself do it? Did you know that I stabbed him? I was holding the knife. I don't know if I could've lived with myself if Philippa's conscience didn't get to her now...And there's Aine. What would she have done without him? What would I have done without him?" Geralt was slightly stunned, Iorveth was a dick, a sarcastic, cynical dick who hated dh'oine with a passion. And here he was professing his love to one. 

"You don't need to think about that, Iorveth. You don't need to live without him. The sorceresses know what they're doing. Can I ask you one thing, though?" Iorveth gave a small nod,  
"What changed?"  
"With Roche?"  
"Yeah"  
"He...he just...bloede pest Geralt, nothing changed. I've loved him for a long time, and I hated myself for it. So, I said I hated him. And on some level, maybe I did. He's not perfect, far from it, actually. But....but he loves Aine more than anything. He is there whenever I need him, he doesn't wait for my redeeming qualities to magically appear. He is everything I could have ever needed"  
"Could've sworn you never needed anything"  
"I didn't. I just realized I wanted to need him"  
"I'm happy for you, Iorveth, truly. You deserve a good ending in Dandelion's book"  
"He's still on that? It's been way over half a century, or at least feels like it"  
Geralt gave a small laugh before remarking on Iorveth's stench, causing the elf to show some of the charm he was so famous for before grabbing some spare clothes and taking a bath. 

After scraping the blood from under his nails until his hands were swollen from the harsh soap, Iorveth walked to the guest house, seeing Aine making corn husk dolls with Ciri. She smiled when she saw him, throwing herself into his arms. It took all his strength to tell her that daddy was just a bit tired, and he'd see her in the morning. Iorveth loved his daughter deeply, he could not bring himself to allow her to hold any of the pain or grief he was carrying. After bringing Aine back to the main house and tucking her into bed in the room right next to his, Iorveth decided to take another walk around the property. He was anxious, deeply, deeply, anxious about when Roche would wake up. Would he hate him? Would he demand his ring back and take their daughter home without a second word? Iorveth closed his eyes to force out the thoughts, but only saw Roche's face, his eyes still full of love. How could he love him? Iorveth ran his hands threw his hair and sat down on a bench. He sat until the sky turned from a magenta and orange sunset to ink black. He tried to count the stars, but would only see Roche's face in them. A face that should hold betrayal and rejection, but didn't. Iorveth found himself hating that face. That face that he hurt but refused to hurt him. 

He released his jaw he didn't realize he had been clenching, before slowly walking inside. He wanted to be there when Roche woke up. He wanted to see the anger he knew would come. Looking into Roche's room, he saw the sorceresses had changed places, Yennefer maintained the spell while Sheala slept and Philippa mixed potions. He didn't want to bother them, so he curled up in a large armchair in the main room. He didn't want to sleep, it felt cruel to rest when Roche was fighting for his life, but sometime in the night Iorveth's body betrayed him and he slowly drifted into a fitful sleep. When he woke up, he was in the same armchair but with a knitted blanket draped over him. He stood and stretched, a voice in the back of his mind told him the ache in his neck and spine was barely a fraction of what he deserved.  
He checked on Roche, and felt a small panic in his chest when he saw the aura the sorceresses had been maintaining was gone, as were the three of them. Yennefer walked in the room, and Iorveth jumped when he noticed her. "From Geralt's stories I didn't think you were the anxious type", she said. "What's happening? Where's the light... thing?" "Relax, the spell took. His body is healing well, he will have a scar, but what's one more? He should wake up within the hour." Iorveth went to the kitchen to have some food ready when Roche woke up, and was greeted by a very old human woman in a linen apron. She introduced herself as Marlene, told Iorveth he looked "dreadfully thin", and handed him a loaf of warm bread and a jar of what looked like raspberry jam. Although he was unused to kindness from humans, he knew that everything was topsy-turvey in Toussaint, and decided to thank her and bring the food to Roche's room.  
Iorveth set the food down first, then slowly checked Roche's body for any evidence the sorceresses may have left in placing a tracer or a curse. He found nothing, and although his rational mind told him to calm down, a larger and more influential part of his mind reminded him exactly what happened when he ignored this instinct. Still, although Sheala and Philippa were far from trustworthy, Geralt was. He had obviously allowed them into his home, which seemed to be enough to put Iorveth's racing mind slightly at ease. Sitting down, he watched Roche's chest slowly rise and fall, he looked almost peaceful. Whatever their motives, the sorceresses did an exceptional job at keeping Roche alive, the perfectly placed bandages on his chest didn't even have any blood on them. Iorveth wondered what time it was, it had to have been very early, the moon was still slightly visible over the lush green mountains. He wanted to talk to Geralt, but the witcher barely got any good sleep as it is and Iorveth didn't want to disturb him. Instead, the elf occupied himself with observing the room, and noticed a familiar trunk next to the bookshelf. Carefully opening it, he saw it was their things from Vizima, including his precious flute. Iorveth didn't know if it would be a good idea to start making noise when Roche was still resting, but the sorceresses were very loud and Roche stayed fast asleep then. Raising the flute to his mouth, Iorveth began to play a song whose name he had forgotten years ago, one he would play in the mornings when he woke up and couldn't fall back asleep, one that he would hear Aine humming as she helped feed the chickens. The one he was playing the first time he saw his human. 

After a while, he noticed Roche's leg move slightly, and immediately dropped his flute and pulled his chair right next to the the bed. Suddenly, all of the last night's previous doubts crashed over Iorveth like a wave. This was it. Roche would call him a murderer, a selfish bastard who was only out to save his own skin, he would take their daughter and leave. Iorveth was tempted to stand and go, but the ice in his veins melted at the sight of Roche opening his eyes. Iorveth couldn't contain his grin or the tears that were falling down his cheeks at the sight of his human, his beautiful, kind, flawed human looking at him with deep brown eyes that only held love. "Wh-what happened? Not dead am I?", Roche said through chapped lips as Iorveth filled a cup with cool water and pressed it to his fiancé's lips, the reflection of the gold ring against the water making Iorveth smile even wider. "No, Philippa brought us here, to Corvo Bianco"  
"the Corvo Bianco?" Iorveth nodded, before Roche noticed the tears and raised an eyebrow, "are you okay?" Iorveth scoffed and stood up, wiping away his tears as he began to pace the small room "Am I okay? Roche I almost killed you. I would have killed you if they didn't intervene, how can you ask me if I'm okay? I'm not. I love you, Vernon, and Emhyr took advantage of that. It's a weakness and he exploited it. I- I'm so sorry. I almost killed you. How could I do that? How could...", Iorveth's rambling was cut off my a sob that wracked through his body. Tearing his eyes away from the floor, he saw Roche sitting with his back on several soft pillows as he gave Iorveth a look the elf couldn't understand. 

"Come here", Roche said softly. Iorveth approached him like he would a rabid dog, quietly, calmly, as if one wrong move would kill him.  
"Iorveth, you did the bravest thing anyone could have done. You saved yourself, you saved our daughter. I am so sorry for placing that burden on you. You are not weak. You are stronger than anyone I have ever met, what you did proves that. You shouldn't have had to, I am so sorry-"  
"No, I'm sorry. I did it. I didn't have to but I did. How can you apologize- "  
"Stop interrupting", Roche gently placed Iorveth's hand between his and rubbed small circles on the palm with his thumb. "We could apologize for everything to the end of time. But I'm here. I'm okay, and I would love to spend the rest of my life with you, if you'll still have me?" the human said with a smile that made Iorveth's heart melt. "I'd like nothing better", he said with a kiss that reminded them of every kiss they had shared, the years of anger, hatred, and lust falling away. It was a new beginning, a life they never thought they deserved. The moment was abruptly halted by the sound of small feet running to the door. "Daddy!!" Aine shouted as she jumped on the bed, causing Roche to give a small grunt of pain. Ciri was at the door, smiling as Roche and Iorveth pulled their daughter into a warm hug. "Welcome back to the land of the living", she nodded to Roche. He smiled as Iorveth mouthed "Thank you", noticing the countless small braids Aine had put in her mousey blonde hair. Ciri closed the door behind her, seeing her father in the next room. "Is he awake?", Geralt asked, to which Ciri nodded and said they would probably like to see him. Geralt quietly opened the door, seeing Iorveth sleeping curled into Roche's side with Aine sandwiched between them. Even after years of being around elves, he was still surprised by how quickly they could fall asleep. The witcher closed the door carefully, thinking back to that afternoon in the forests of Vergen, and smiled to himself when he remembered teasing Roche about the slight glint in his eyes whenever he spoke about that regular son of a whore. 

a/n pt 2: i lied in the tags turns out i'm a little bitch who couldn't kill roche but u know what neither could iorveth so we're even


End file.
